


Nothing Worth Having Comes Without Some Kind of Fight

by NyxEtoile, OlivesAwl



Series: Lovers in a Dangerous Time [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Wakanda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-08-30 20:19:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8547760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NyxEtoile/pseuds/NyxEtoile, https://archiveofourown.org/users/OlivesAwl/pseuds/OlivesAwl
Summary: Steve gave himself a minute to hug Sharon. "I'm so sorry," he murmured into her hair.


  "Not your fault," she said, but she held on very tightly as she wrapped her arms around him. "Took you long enough, though."





	

**Author's Note:**

> We wrote this a while back and never posted it. I'm guessing it's probably the end of this series.

The Raft was nowhere near as secure as its operators want it to be. Granted, he was Captain America, but it really should have been harder for he and Nat to break into and then take over the damn thing.

Like any good batch of puritans, they seemed to have the prisoners segregated by sex. When he found Sam he had Clint and Scott Lang as his cell mates. Nat had gone to check the other level, hoping to come back with Wanda and Sharon.

He hadn't been able to talk her out of joining the fight. "Got your girl," Nat said over the comms, humor in her voice. 

"Did they hurt her?" he asked. Judging by the state of Sam's face, Ross had gone looking for information the old fashioned way.

"Bumps and bruises. She says they hadn't pulled out the thumb screws yet."

"Meet us at the jet, then?"

"Bring Clint down here. I need help with Wanda."

So downstairs they all went. He was good at being calm, collected, professional, in the face of all sorts of things. Then he saw her and forgot everything.

Sharon and Nat were huddled around Wanda, who was sitting quietly on the floor. When they came in Sharon lifted a gun as she turned, then dropped it when she saw it was him. There was a cut on her forehead surrounded by a bruise that edged under her hairline. It probably needed stitches, but had begun healing already.

She smiled and slumped a little. "Hi."

He probably should fuss over Wanda, but Clint had nearly knocked him aside so he could run to do so. So Steve gave himself a minute to hug Sharon. "I'm so sorry," he murmured into her hair.

"Not your fault," she said, but she held on very tightly as she wrapped her arms around him. "Took you long enough, though."

"We gotta go," Nat said. Steve lifted his head to see Clint was carrying Wanda, who was awake but staring vacantly.

God. What a fucking mess he'd made.

He held Sharon's hand as they walked out to the hanger and piled into the jet. He'd thought maybe Clint would want to fly them out, but he didn't seem like he was interested inletting Wanda go. So Steve headed up to the cockpit and Sharon trailed after him.

"We're going to Wakanda. I don't know if you _want_ to go live there. . . but it's all I've got."

"I hear it's lovely," she said, sinking into the co-pilot seat. "I can work on my tan."

"You are a genuine goddess," he said with a smile.

"Genuine goddess is looking forward to a shower," she told him. "No matter what country it happens in." She reached over and touched his hand. "Thanks for the rescue."

"There was no way I'd leave you in there," he said firmly.

She was quiet a moment, watching the ocean whizzing past beneath them. Finally, she said, "I know. It was just. . ." She shrugged. "Never mind."

He looked over at her. "What?"

Shaking her head, she looked back at him. "It was a long few days."

He watched her a moment, then nodded and focused out the window again. She had her ways. He could only hope she'd tell him when she was ready to talk about it.

It was a long flight back to Wakanda, even in T'Challa's fancy high tech jet. Sharon dozed in her seat on an off, jumping a little when she woke. When she realized where she was she would smile and resettle.

T'Challa and his guards and staff met them when they landed. Wanda was taken to the royal hospital to have the burns on her throat checked out. Clint went with her, as did Sam, once Steve realized his fingers were broken. Sharon insisted she really just wanted a shower.

She did at least let him look at the cut on her head after said shower. Wrapped in a robe and her hair in a towel, she sat on a fancy-looking couch while he very carefully cleaned it, put on antibiotic cream, and a bandaid. 

"I bet you're way cuter than any of the nurses at the hospital," she told him as he cleaned up.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked, his voice coming out more unsteady than he expected.

Maybe it was the shake that got her to be honest. "Some of my knuckles are split from the fight and my foot might be sprained. I've got some bruises and scrapes but nothing is broken." Her fingers curled around one of his hands. "The psychological stuff isn't going to get fixed by a visit to the ER. I'd rather be right here."

"I've got you," he breathed. "Anything you need. Anything."

For a moment she just leaned on his side, breathing in sync with him. Then she turned her head and kissed him. He sighed, sliding his hands into her hair, letting the kiss get deeper. He wasn't sure what she was in the mood for with her bruises and sprain, but he was happy to be along for the ride. He’d missed her. He needed her.

Her hand pressed to his cheek, the other arm sliding around his shoulders. She shifted so she was facing him more, their legs tangling together. The kisses got more urgent, and when he broke it to trail his mouth down her throat she gave a deep, shuddery sigh.

He untied the robe she was wearing, pushing it off her shoulders so she was naked. He wanted to touch her, map her, mark her as his. "I've got you," he whispered. "I've got you."

"Yes," she murmured in reply, arm tightening on him. "Please." She shifted again, so that she was in his lap, and he could touch and stroke and hold her just like he wanted.

They kissed again while she pulled at his pants and he dipped his fingers between her legs. He want to take his time, she was sore, she was tired, she was. . . very wet. And sliding her hand into the fly of his pants. "Sharon, I. . ." Not that he had any sort of actual protest.

"I need you," she mumbled on his mouth, hand stroking. She knew him painfully well, what pressure, what pace to use. "Need to feel."

All he could manage was a groan. He lifted her, and she helped guide him to the right angle before slowly sinking down. Her slick heat enveloped him, and for a moment he couldn't even see straight it felt so good.

Sharon gasped softly, legs trembling against him. Her mouth found his in a rough, searing kiss as she started to rock on him. There was no art or artifice to it, just the slid of her body on his and a hint of desperation in her kiss.

"You feel so good," he mumbled against his mouth, cupping both of her breasts in his hands.

Her hands clenched and flexed in his hair, on his shoulders. He slid a hand down to her ass, helping her move on him. The strokes got shorter, rougher, her hips snapping into his. Then she gave a little cry and sunk down hard, fingertips digging into the skin of his back. Her whole body shook as she clenched and shuddered around him. He held her tight as he came with her, letting it wash this awful, awful week away for just a minute. There was nothing else. Just her and him. Just them.

She slumped against him, pressing her face into the curve of his throat. He rubbed her back and she lifted a hand to stroke her hair. After a few minutes he realized the hitch in her breathing wasn't her trying to catch her breath, but quiet little sobs as she cried on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into her hair. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

She shook her head, arms tightening on him. "Don't. Please don't. It's not your fault."

Guilt drowned him. “Yes, it is. I ruined your life. I ruined a _lot_ of lives."

"You didn't hold a gun to my head. Or anyone else's."

"I know," he said. "But I still led people who trusted me into a disaster."

She sniffled and rubbed a hand over her face. "Not even you know the outcome of a battle when you start. Sometimes you lose, even when you're in the right."

"Well, I'm sorry anyway. Because it hurt you."

After a moment she nodded. "I forgive you. I'm glad I'm here with you."

He cupped her face in his hands. "I wouldn't have stopped until I found you."

She smiled. It was shaky and watery, but it was a real smile. "I know," she said softly.

The tears still made him ache. "I want to promise I'll keep you safe but I don't know if I can promise anyone anything like that anymore."

"I'm safe tonight," she said, kissing him lightly. "And I'm with you. That's better than I was doing last night."

"Okay," he said quietly, then added, "I love you."

She sucked in a breath. "I love you."

It made him happy just to hear it. "I had a feeling that might be what you'd say."

That made her laugh, which made him even happier. "Want to carry me over to that big bed?"

He had to lift her so he could kick off his pants before he could stand. "I do. And then I'm going to get some ice for your ankle and rub your back."

"That sounds very romantic."


End file.
